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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23264083">here I am</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bushwah/pseuds/Bushwah'>Bushwah</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>we the clay [11]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fake AH Crew (Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Age Changes, Alternate Universe - Cults, Alternate Universe - Grand Theft Auto Setting, Bets &amp; Wagers, Boxing &amp; Fisticuffs, Choking, Consent Issues, Death Threats, Drunken Shenanigans, Fighting Kink, Flirting, Gang Violence, Gay Panic, Gender Issues, Gun Violence, Humiliation, M/M, Minor Character Death, Necrophilia, Serial Killers, Slurs, Sparring, Statutory Rape, Suicidal Thoughts, Threats of Violence, big dick energy, kinkshaming</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 06:41:09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,070</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23264083</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bushwah/pseuds/Bushwah</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“You expect me to put my gun down and fistfight you because you made a bet?”</p><p>(Jeremy challenges Ryan to a fight.)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jeremy Dooley/Michael Jones, Jeremy Dooley/Ryan Haywood, Ryan Haywood/Original Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>we the clay [11]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1643119</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>28</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>here I am</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is an FPF fic based exclusively on the Fake AH Crew lore as set forth by Rooster Teeth Productions. This work owes an additional debt of thanks to Wren wrenseroticlibrary.tumblr.com and their collab partner Threatie alastair-made-me-undo-it.tumblr.com, posting collaboratively as Wrespawn on the AO3, for their contributions to the FAHC fandom.</p><p>All major characters in this series are abusive, in that they use abuse tactics in conducting their relationships. However, the degree of trauma they inflict depends on a variety of factors, within and outside their control. Abusive acts committed from a position of extreme power, such as Jack's control over the respawn machine (regarding the crew) or the other Fakes' access to it (regarding outsiders), are both particularly damaging and particularly unjustifiable.</p><p>The necrophilia and suicidal thoughts warnings relate to non-graphic references. The statutory rape warning is for a brief reference that is somewhat more graphic but still offstage; all characters in the fic are at least 18. The rape and murder are more central.</p><p>The slurs used in this fic (fag and freak) appear in an aggressive context.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Hey, Vagabond!”</p><p>Ryan looks up, his gun whipping around to point unerringly at the source of the words. It's some college kid running toward him with his hands up. Pretty ballsy of him to get Ryan's attention like that.</p><p>He's killed men for less. Sometimes <em>much</em> less.</p><p>“Yeah?” he says casually.</p><p>The kid stops, far enough away that Ryan doesn't have to shoot him for safety reasons. And, fuck, he might as well hear him out.</p><p>“You looking to hook up, or?”</p><p>The kid fucking blushes. Shit, he's 18, right?</p><p>Ryan remembers his mentor saying, “Don't waste your time with jailbait.” His mentor hadn't been too keen on the murder, either. But Ryan had agreed on the first point. There was no fun in fucking kids the same way there was no fun in fucking prisoners, or corpses. Their ability to fight had already been taken away.</p><p>“I want to fight you,” the kid says.</p><p>Ryan looks him up and down, derisive. “Are you even armed?”</p><p>“No,” the kid says, like the words are climbing on top of each other to get out of his mouth. “No, <em>fuck</em> no, I've got nothing, I meant hand to hand. Uh, I was drunk and my friend—uh, I said I wanted to fight you, and my friend dared me to tell you. And I may have made a bet that I would win, so... here I am.”</p><p>“You expect me to put my gun down and fistfight you because you made a bet?”</p><p>The kid's backing up, and Ryan's feet itch to chase. “God, never mind, it was stupid, s—thank you for your time, sir.”</p><p>Ryan takes a step forward. “I didn't say no.”</p><p>He takes his com out of his pocket without looking away from the kid's eyes, wide and shy like a deer's.</p><p>“Mogar?”</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>“Come to my location, I got a fight for you to watch.”</p><p>A snort. “Your target's waiting around while you tell all your friends to bring popcorn?”</p><p>“Actually, yes.” Ryan mutes the com input. “You don't mind, do you, squirt?”</p><p>Kid puffs back up at that. “Be honored to lose to either of you,” he says.</p><p>“Thought you bet you'd win.” Ryan turns back on the com.</p><p>“Not gonna be much of a fight if they're just letting you kill them,” Michael's been saying.</p><p>“Oh, it's not supposed to be a fight to the death,” Ryan says. “I was hoping you'd referee to keep it that way.”</p><p>“Sure, sure,” Michael says, and Ryan cuts the connection.</p><p>“Scared I'll kill you?” the kid asks.</p><p>Ryan has to admire the guy's big dick energy, even if it is going to get him killed. “Mm, no. Other way around.”</p><p>The kid tilts his head, not understanding. A smile creeps across Ryan's face.</p><p>“Wouldn't be the first time he's pulled me off of someone,” the Vagabond says. “It would be a waste to only fight you once.”</p>
<hr/><p>The Vagabond wins, of course.</p><p>Jeremy kinda knew it was going to go like that. He actually had more of a chance than he was expecting, probably because the Vagabond was <em>letting</em> him. God, it was a good fight. He swears he almost threw him. But the Vagabond had gotten him in an ankle lock, and he'd tapped, and the match had been over.</p><p>He hadn't actually released the hold as soon as Jeremy surrendered. Mogar had been watching, but the Vagabond hadn't seemed to care. He let go when he was good and ready. Jeremy had the distinct impression that Mogar wouldn't have cared about non-fatal damage.</p><p>He rolls his ankle, testing. Feels fine. The Vagabond hadn't actually pushed harder, he just hadn't let go.</p><p>“Good shit,” he says to the Vagabond, then looks over at the other man. Jeremy's breathing hard, but his blood's up and he's survived this far. “Mogar, I'm gonna be honest, I don't have a bet about you, but I saw the way you were eying me and god <em>damn</em> I wanna get my hands on you.”</p><p>Mogar laughs, loud and unafraid, and tosses his gun to the Vagabond. “You a fag, or is this a friendly match?”</p><p>Jeremy swallows. He has the distinct impression that he does not want to show weakness. “What, can't be both?”</p><p>Mogar's grinning, showing teeth. “Well, are you one of those freaks that's gonna get hard when I step on your face?”</p><p>“We'll see who's stepping on whose face.” Jeremy's standing now, shoulders square, back upright and strong. Exhilarated. “Now are you gonna fight me, or—”</p><p>And then Michael rushes him and there's nothing left to do but defend.</p>
<hr/><p>Jeremy's fully expecting to lose. Even when he's got his legs around Mogar's neck, cutting off the blood flow to his brain, he doesn't let himself believe he's won until the man goes limp.</p><p>He's already releasing him when the Vagabond calls KO. Jeremy looks over and realizes the Vagabond has had a gun on the fighters the entire time. A shudder runs through him. Fuck, he hadn't even <em>noticed</em>.</p><p>“Gonna need you to step away from my crewmate,” the Vagabond drawls. “I gotta make sure he's still alive.”</p><p>Jeremy looks reflexively back to Mogar, whose eyes are thankfully open again, and skitters aside as the Vagabond approaches. The Vagabond crouches down next to his crewmate. “Yeah,” he says to him. “Took a little nap there, big guy.”</p><p>The Vagabond is bigger, Jeremy notices. The Vagabond also has a nice ass, Jeremy notices.</p><p>Jeremy is staring, Jeremy notices.</p><p>
  <em>You a fag, or is this a friendly match?</em>
</p><p>He's starting to think that discretion might be the better part of valor when he hears Mogar speak.</p><p>His voice is slurred, but the words are clear enough. “I'm gonna get you for that, punk.”</p><p>Jeremy swallows. Yes, he definitely wants out of here. But the same intuition that kept him from running before keeps him from running now. He doesn't want to stay and be beaten up, but if he turns to run, he's not getting anything but a bullet in the back of his head.</p><p>The Vagabond doesn't miss.</p><p>The Vagabond's talking. “He won fair and square,” he says to Mogar. “You're not getting him for shit. Hey, what's your name, squirt?”</p><p>Does he lie does he lie does he—“Jay,” Jeremy says.</p><p>Belatedly, he thinks to be offended. Squirt? Really?</p><p>The Vagabond nods. “Li'l J here is under my protection.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Genesis 22:1.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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